Caryl Churchill's new play has 57 scenes, runs 110 minutes and employs 16 actors to play more than 100 characters. Too much information?

But one of the many points made by this exhilarating theatrical kaleidoscope is that we live in a world where information bombardment is in danger of leading to atrophy of memory, erosion of privacy and decay of feeling.

What is extraordinary about Churchill is her capacity as a dramatist to go on reinventing the wheel. All her plays, from Owners to A Number and Far Away, are formal experiments, and on this occasion she has come up with something that feels like an intimate revue written by Wittgenstein.

Occasionally, as in a cryptic sketch about a woman flummoxed by a multilingual waiter who knows endless words for "table", it is very funny. But what I detect in Churchill is a deep sense of political and personal unease about a society in which speed of communication replaces human connections.

That is manifested in scenes showing we don't always know how to cope with the information available.

In Climate, a woman expresses her fear of the impact of global catastrophe on future generations while her mother blithely hangs lights on a Christmas tree.

In Earthquake, set in a noisy cocktail bar, a man registers his horror at a recent tsunami to a woman for whom it is simply a series of TV images.

Both scenes, like all of Churchill's 57 varieties, gain immeasurably in power from the way James Macdonald's production gives them a specific social context.

But Churchill deals with the private as well as the public consequences of living in a dizzyingly changing world. The mordantly funny Virtual depicts a couple on exercise bikes, the man proclaiming of his feminine ideal that "she's beautiful, she's intelligent, she understands me" only to reveal that he's talking about a computer.

This doesn't mean Churchill's play is some attack on technology: she is saying that we have to be its master rather than its slave and learn how to how to live with the cascade of fact and opinion.

Churchill's play, in short, is a humanist document that, in Macdonald's dazzling production, makes vivid use of theatre's technical resources.

Miriam Buether's white-walled chamber set which opens and closes like a camera shutter, Christopher Shutt's variegated sound design and Laura Draper's stage management ensure that one scene follows another with lightning speed.

And, in a large cast, Amanda Drew, Linda Bassett, Nikki Amuka-Bird, Justin Salinger and Paul Jesson, are among those who make a decisive impact. Each spectator will have a different vision of what this defiantly nonlinear show is really about.

For me, Churchill suggests, with compassionate urgency, that our insatiable appetite for knowledge needs to be informed by our capacity for love.

Until 13 October. Box Office: 020 7565 5000. Guardian Extra members can save £5 on top price tickets for selected performances of Love and Information. For more information, go to guardian.co.uk/extra